HuntersDotCom
by glittergoddess13
Summary: Hunters profiled on a website meet a gruesome death. The next victim rocks the Winchester's world. LimpDean, ProtectiveSam, FatherlyBobby, Angst, Character death, CryingSam, and Brotherly Love, HurtDean. Reviews welcomed and appreciated.
1. Playing with Fire

I hope you enjoy my 2nd attempt ever at fan fiction. Thanks for reading and I appreciate any and all feedback. I don't own Supernatural, but love, love, love it.

_**Hunters-Dot-Com**_

The Dragon's Arm Inn had seen better days. The green hued walls were only enhanced by the green and black mildew sheathed walls. The years had been demanding upon the structure and the frames creaked with years of termite infestation. It was often the kind of place Dean Winchester found himself. Dean stood in one corner of the room facing a stunning woman with raven hair with eyes to match.

"Ah, Dean, I thought you would appreciate this look."

"Sorry, not much on bitches, in any form."

"Nasty, nasty, nasty," the woman said laughing. "The bad habits you picked up from Daddy. Not really a good role model for his boys." A malevolent smile spread across her face.

"Better than yours!" Dean quipped. He squeezed his own mouth into his trademark cocky smile.

"Do you like my friend? We were just dying to have you meet. Don't worry; I'll take care of Sammy for you like he is one of our own. Doesn't that have a nice ring to it!" She snickered again. She edged closer to Dean's face.

Dean locked eyes with her. "Funny you said you were dying. Find a new power to see your future. Cause if you thought I put a hurt on you before, you better think again."

"Ahh. These are the Dean Winchester moments I'll miss the most-the unrealistic expectations. At least I'm not disappointed. You did exactly what I thought you would. So predictable! Letting your stupid protective nature of those around you be your downfall. I find it poetic."

"Let's see… how many times have you kicked my ass? Hmm… None."

A second fire-haired beauty stood nearby. She appeared to be a tall, elegant, work of art brought to living form. Every facet enhanced the exquisiteness of her form- her long fingers, her large emerald green eyes, the alabaster skin, the long cascading red curls falling down her back, and crimson lips. It was hard not to fixate upon her magnificence.

"Dean, I'd like you to meet my amadán.

The amadánfloated in a fluid dance-like motion towards Dean. Her elongated finger reached for his chest. The fingers lingered upon the vicinity of his heart. A tingle teased his skin and Dean felt his body become rigid. The dominance to control his muscles abandoned him. His petrified frame plummeted and collided with the perforated wooden floor. He was a cognizant of the world around him, but felt like his essence was trying to crawl out an abyss in his own shell.

The raven haired girl bent down and kissed Dean lightly on the lips. "Bye Dean!" Her hollow black eyes glinted with wickedness and she lifted in her head in self assurance. She flicked a match against the floor and the top sparked with illumination. "Let's see if you think burning is fun."


	2. Online Profile

**A week earlier…**

Bobby rumpled through the pages on his desk. He pulled the collection of recent newspaper obituaries and plopped them into Dean's lap. Sam had logged his computer onto a website Supernatural want to thank you boys for coming."

"Always, Bobby… Sam said looking at a picture of Bobby's face plastered on the web for the entire world.

"At least you are hunter of the week, Bobby" Dean voiced as he leafed through the obits.

"Well, if you ignore the fact that being a hunter is not something you want broadcasted. Whoever is posting knows their stuff. Someone has been watching hunters very closely. The worst part is the past winners."

Sam clicked the hunter before Bobby. "Joseph Jones"

"Joseph Jones," Bobby and Dean voiced simultaneously Dean passed the obit to Sam.

"He was found stabbed 80 times in some alley. All the hunters posted on this have met a gruesome death. Ken Johnson- pulled behind a car, Dave Greene-pummeled to death, and the list goes on. 10 hunters in the past 10 weeks with no escaping. No evidence was left on the crime scene. I'm not prepared to sit and wait for what's coming. You can see why I called you boys."

"Well, if some freak thing has a taste for hunters, I say we shove a good helping down their throats," Dean sputtered out. The thought of something hunting hunters was disquieting to Dean.

"We're ready for whatever you need," Sam voiced over the top of his computer.

"Good. I thought I might need some help with this one. This thing is good, if it took down 10 of us without leaving a trace. It's smart."

"Not a problem. It might take down hunters when their off guard, but we aren't going to wait around for it. Besides, me and Sam owe you a few anyway."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-xx-

**Later that day...**

The impala hummed viciously as Dean sparred no time and effort to protect Bobby. The other victims died within a week or less after posting. Bobby wasn't going to become next in line. The passing road signed showed the town of Seattle was imminent.

"The last victim was killed in Seattle, so if we backtrack we might be able to find out what we are dealing with." Sam said.

"The lack of pattern is weird. Not in the same city, hunters don't know each other; the deaths are completely different… Ahhhhgrh, there's no pattern." Dean slammed his hand against the steering wheel.

"We better find one," Bobby added from the backseat.

"At least this thing won't find you alone. It will have to deal with Sammy and Me before we let that happen."

"You boys listen. I know you want to protect me. But if this thing is something we can't beat, you boys get out."

"Don't talk crazy. Besides we don't need you to get us in trouble."

"That's Dean's job."

"Laugh it up, Geek wonder!"


	3. Nothing but Trouble

-x-x-x-xx-x-x-x-x-x-xx—x-x-x-x-x-x-x-xx-x-x-x

**Present Day…**

Ducking the police tape, the three men proceeded into the dark eerie alley. Dean swept his homemade meter three times over the crime scene area. After the fourth, his frustration caused him to speak.

"I got nothing- No EMF, no ectoplasm, no cold spots, not sulfur, nothing."

"It just looks like a crime scene," Bobby blurted.

"Maybe the thing hunting is not our kind of gig," Sam added.

"We'll it could be some nut job, but I got to say no way. This person is either one of us or one of them. You don't go after hunters like these guys and Bobby unless you got some skills."

"Something's not right. That's for sure. Boys this just doesn't feel right."

"Bobby, see if you and Sam can get some info from the morgue on this guy. I'll finish looking around here- not that I expect anything." Dean tossed Sam the keys. "Hey don't forget to pick me up on your way back." Dean yelled.

Bobby looked at Sam. "Did you tell him the plan to leave?"

"I didn't I swear."

"Ha" Dean rolled his eyes and continued to look for any clues. Behind him, Sam and Bobby roared away on their own mission. Dean rubbed his hands over his forehead. His tongue darted over his lower teeth and he let out an exasperated sigh. Thankfully it was a short back alley, so he would be finished before Sam and Bobby returned.

He voyaged down the short space, inspecting every piece of pavement. Nothing seemed out of place. Dean's aggravation grew.

Finally, Dean approached the last building on the alley's block. The Dragon's Arm Inn sign hung askew and squeaked at the slightest breeze. The city had forgotten and abandoned this structure long ago and the backdoor had blackened over the years with the soot of the city. To other eyes, the building would look to be empty and unwanted, but one look at the backdoor entrance way told Dean otherwise. The door had scrapped a pattern into the years of built up dirt. Dean crouched on the ground and fingered the dirt groove. It was deep yawning rut that showed the door had been used frequently.

"You shouldn't be such as nosy boy, Dean," a voice said behind him.

Dean whirled in time to see a large rod sheer the side of his head and collapsed against the dilapidated door.


	4. Fire of Familiar Evil

Dean's head ached. He instinctively reached for the wound on his head. His fingers stained with the blood that seeped from the gash. He heaved his upper body. Dean propped against the wall's corner and forced himself to stand by grasping the walls.

Dean's feet creaked upon the almost breaking fissure filled wooden floor. Across the room, an empty window frame displayed a view of the Dragon's Arm Inn sign that Dean had observed in the alley. Closer to his current position, a door was ajar from sprung hinges.

Dean wiped the blood from his forehead a final time and gingerly tested his footing on the next part of the floor. He leaned against the mildew covered walls causing his blood covered hands to streaking the dirt and mildew covered walls. He only managed a few feet, before two beautiful women entered the room. He reversed his steps a few feet back towards his original position.

The first woman was a raven haired beauty. Her clothes clung in all the places Dean found attractive. Her bobbed hair struck under her chin bringing focus to her full lips. She appeared to be human, but the second was an otherworldly beauty. Her hair fell in a torrent of fire like curls upon her back. Her emerald eyes stared at Dean. If the circumstances were different, Dean would swear he was involved in some fantasy. The pain in his head was more than confirmation this was real.

The dark haired woman approached Dean, standing a few feet. She matched stares with him." Dean you weren't trying to leave without having a little fun with us? Is that any way to return my hospitality? Tch..tch..tch." Her eyes became ebony filled chasms.

Dean smirked at the woman before him. "Do you think those black eyes scare me? You can save the cheap theatrics, Sweetheart. You won't be the first of your kind I've kicked back to hell."

The demon possessed woman laughed and strutted closer to him. Her plump lips grazed his ear with a gentle kiss. "Oh, save the macho bullshit. I know you way better than that. We've always have such good time." She perched her lips and blew in Dean's ear.

Dean remained unflinching, "Meg, "spilled from gritted teeth. His expression locked between hate and determination.

"I've been waiting. I was getting kind of bored with my little game. Just waiting for little Dean to come running to the rescue. Being bored does have a high point, I've thought of all the nasty things I can do to you. I always knew I was unforgettable. You have to admit I do have good taste in pretty puppets. My last host was a nice little package," Meg's voiced oozed with venom. "Papa Winchester does make some fine looking boy." Meg caressed Dean's face with her index finger.

Dean pushed her back away from him. "Glad I could give you something nice to remember when I send you back to hell."

"Ah, Dean, I thought you would appreciate this look."

"Sorry, not much on bitches, in any form."

"Nasty, nasty, nasty," the woman said laughing. "The bad habits you picked up from Daddy. Not really a good role model for his boys." A malevolent smile spread across her face.

"Better than yours!" Dean quipped. He squeezed his own mouth into his trademark cocky smile.

"Do you like my friend? We were just dying to have you meet. Don't worry; I'll take care of Sammy for you like he is one of our own. Doesn't that have a nice ring to it!" She snickered again. She edged closer to Dean's face.

Dean locked eyes with her. "Funny you said you were dying. Find a new power to see your future. Cause if you thought I put a hurt on you before, you better think again."

"Ahh. These are the Dean Winchester moments I'll miss the most-the unrealistic expectations. At least I'm not disappointed. You did exactly what I thought you would. So predictable! Letting your stupid protective nature of those around you be your downfall. I find it poetic."

"Let's see… how many times have you kicked my ass? Hmm. None." Dean watched as the second woman drew closer.

"Dean, I'd like you to meet my amadán."

The amadán'sfingers lingered upon the vicinity of his heart and a tingle teased his skin. His petrified frame plummeted and collided with the perforated wooden floor. He felt like his essence was trying to crawl out an abyss in his own shell.

Meg crouched down and kissed Dean flippantly on the lips. "Bye Dean!" Her hollow black eyes glinted with wickedness and she lifted in her head in self assurance. She flicked a match against the floor and the top sparked with illumination. "Let's see if you think burning is fun."

She allowed the match to burn in front of Dean's eyes until in burned her fingers. Meg didn't recoil when the match dwindled down upon her finger and thumb. "You're going to feel what you have done to me and be just as helpless to escape it. How does it feel to be so powerless?

Meg allowed a suspension of her gloating to pass, and then continued her verbal torment. "Dean, I never thought you would be speechless."

She retrieved a gasoline container from outside the door and splashed a large arc in front of the corner. "Not too close. A girl likes to take her time with a man like you."

Meg drained the remainder of the liquid in front of the window and door. "Just in case. Don't want to take chances of you rolling out the door or anything. You, Winchester are full of surprises. No one is going to stop our plans for Sammy, but I like to think we have something a little more personal Dean-o. Oh…I never wanted Bobby. You boys are just too easy to trap. I would have expected you to learn something from the first time we met."

The amadán and Meg turned and strutted towards the door. Meg flicked a second match to life and flung if upon the gas soaked floor.


	5. Nothing Else Matters

-x-x-x-xx-x-x-x-xx-x-x-x-xx-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Bobby and Sam scrambled through the basement window of the coroner's office. The only origin of light was emanating from the flashlights in their hand. The Sam quickly busied himself in locating the report on Joseph Jones' remains, flicking his finger nimbly through the folders in the drawer.

"C-1." Sam stated as he withdrew file from the overstuffed drawer. Bobby and Sam stalked silently to the cadaver storage until, resting their lights upon C-1. Upon opening the drawer, Bobby and Sam gaped in astonishment.

"Whoa..uhh..," Sammy said as he started down at the mutilated form before him.

""According to the report, the cause of dead was multiple stab wounds."

"That's obvious"

"Stabbed at least 87 times- Several appeared to be post-mortem. There were no defensive wounds, signs of a struggle, and the toxicology was clean."

"Then what would make a man, let alone a hunter, not fight back?"

"Don't worry Bobby, we're gonna find out. Dean and I won't let anything happen to you."

The plaintiff look on Sam's face impressed Bobby. It was a nice diversion from thinking aboutbeing something's prey. The boys had the same ironclad machismo as their father, but they also had the same abundant capacity for compassion. "I'm not worried about that. I just can't figure what we are dealing with here. It just don't sit right. If you are gonna kill a hunter, why advertise it? I don't like this Sam. In any case, I'm not one to wait. Let's go grab Dean. We gotta set a trap up for this thing. So far we got plenty of nothing and it's time we get the upper hand."

-x-x-x-xx-x-x-x-xx-x-x-x-xx-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Dean's flaccid body laid helpless as the fire crept up the room's wall. His thoughts drifted to his mother, he wondered if she felt the same trepidation as the fire engulfed the life, the dreams, and hopes she had for her life. Caught somewhere between remorse, hope, and despair, Dean could only wait for death's blistering grip to welcome him.

The inferno thrashed at the decaying building. The floor on the opposite side of the room had hastily burned and crashed in the room below. The small piece of floor beneath Dean struggled to maintain its hold. A single support beam preserved the diminutive corner from joining the sweltering cavity below. The wall behind him had started to smolder. Soon the floorboards would give way, delivering Dean to his nightmare.

Steadily, the amadán's toxins proliferated his internal workings. He wrestled to sustain his mind, but bleakness embarked further into Dean's core. Dean knew the amadán's toxin was spreading faster than the flames. His breaths were trivial, his heart beat pulsated erratically, and his mind grew watery. Yet somehow, it brought him comfort to know that the toxin would get him before the flames. Meg wouldn't get that satisfaction from him. His perception became harder to clutch. He rammed his final thoughts to the forefront. He seized the reflections of his life that he most yearned to embrace- his mother, his father, and Sam. A small gasp emitted from Dean's lips and all his thoughts wilted away.

-x-x-x-xx-x-x-x-xx-x-x-x-xx-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Sam and Bobby pulled in the parking spot adjacent to the back alley. They swung themselves out of the car doors. The resolution to fight this thing proactively had removed Sam and Bobby from the doldrums.

"Hopefully, Dean found more than we did."

"He's probably pissed we took so long." Sam snickered.

"The patience is definitely from your father," Bobby allowed laughter to spill easily. "I remember this one time me and your Dad… God, you and Dean were just little tikes then, … but nothing else would suit your Dad unless…," Bobby stopped when Sam clenched his arm.

Sam spotted the black billowing smoke emanating from the last building in the area. He browsed the alley hoping to see Dean, but found only emptiness.

"Dean!"

Sam pushed his legs at full throttle through the alley. His hopes filled by the thought Dean had become bored and found some diner or some girl, but everything told him that Dean was in that building. Bobby struggled to keep pace with the frantic Sam.

"Dean! Dean! Where are you?!" Sam screeched as he sprinted his way to the charred building. Upon the entrance way he detected a golden glint in the mud covered step. He paused only momentarily to register Dean's necklace before scooping it in his pocket and running in the firestorm.


	6. Into the Firestorm

Sam found himself on the first floor hallway. The fire had driven its way to the bottom floor. Debris, beams, and cinders blew above Sam's head. He proceeded to kick open the first door, the second, the third, the fourth, and so on. His face was frantic with wild determination to locate Dean. Bobby managed to catch up as Sam took a stride and his leg broke through the floor up to his knee. Bobby clinched Sam's waist, helping him to reclaim his footing. Sam didn't care about the scrapes or punctures to his leg. He was engrossed in finding Dean and searching the first floor doors in mad fury. Bobby followed suite on the opposite side. With each door, Sam's anger and worry became greater. The last door on his side cracked in two when he kicked it. The fifth door on Bobby's side broke away easily and revealed an inferno. Bobby could see the room's fire had fallen from the center of the upstairs room.

"Sam, the fire started upstairs!"

Sam took off screaming Dean's name as he ascended the stairs with Bobby scurrying behind him. His steps causing the stairs to fracture, groan, and swing beneath him. As Sam vaulted upon top stair, the stairs splinted and separated. The structure beneath Bobby's feet vanished and Sam grabbed Bobby's outstretched arms. Bobby dangled, suspended only by Sam's grip. Sam grunted and used his anger to hoist Bobby as far as he possibly good. Bobby landed his feet on the floor's understructure and used it to boost Sam's pulling effort. Bobby scrapped his way to the landing with Sam. Bobby and Sam did not linger to think about the panic of what had just occurred, but frantically raced to the room in which the fire started.

The second floor had been overwhelmed by the blaze. The fire was processing fast upon Sam and Bobby. Sam skidded to a stop at the Dean's door and a piece cracked and crashed to the first floor. Sam used his long body to lean around the corner of the burning door frame. The fire singed his hand, but he remained unflinching-trapped in horror- seeing his brother's motionless frame about to be over taken. Sam attempted to scoot his body upon what sub floor structure remained in the wall of the room, but the pressure only caused the floor to plummet below. Bobby yanked the hood of Sam's shirt and helped him maintain balance.

"Sam, we can't get to him this way." Bobby grabbed Sam's shirt forcing him further away.

"I'm not leaving him." Sam pushed Bobby back.

"We're not, but if we weaken that floor anymore, he ain't gonna make it."

"Don't you say that!" Sam said with resentment and regret dancing on his face. Bobby looked him in the eyes, which helped to bring some stillness to Sam.

"We need to find another way in." Bobby's said kindly. The words echoed in Sam's mind. Abruptly, he turned from Bobby and began to wildly kick the wall several feet from the door. His leg soared in a barmy ferocity. His body jarred in pain with each impact. He didn't care. His brother was waiting for him on the other side. It didn't take long for Bobby to follow Sam lead.

"That'll do." Bobby said, but Sam was no longer listening.

"Just hold on Dean," Sam begged.

Sam and Bobby's lungs ached from the black fuming smoke and the blistering heat, but they continued their onslaught on the wall. The wall board snapped under the unforgiving assault. The reverberation from kicking the wall board spread through Sam's leg, as the wall finally gave way. Sam tentatively crawled through their manmade opening and cautiously stepped on to floor. He bowed down quickly and swooped Dean over his shoulder. The floor below ached with Sam's added weight. Sam hurdled through the wall opening as the floor succumbed to the flames.

"Up to the roof, Sam! We can cross over to the next roof." Bobby voiced as he motioned to the service ladder at the end of the hallway. The second floor's destruction was imminent as Bobby and Sam sprinted to the hallway's end.

Sam didn't acknowledge Bobby's words, but bounded down the hallway to the access ladder. The metallic rungs were scorching. Sam yanked his long sleeve over his hand. He used one arm to balance Dean and the other to zoom up to the roof. "Hold on, Dean. Please, God, just let him hold on."


	7. Death leaves him Faded

Sam and Bobby made record time in ascending the rungs. Sam leaped to the next building in the compact block and then leaped upon the next. Bobby followed closely behind him.

Sam stopped on the second building and swung Dean off his shoulders into his arm.

"Dean!" Sam voice cracked and his mouth scrunched in agony. He gazed at Dean's fixed eyes. Sam's breath gasped and his mouth gapped. The gasps became a wheezing. A tremble now twinged in his voice. "No…. No, Dean…please." A tear surged down Sam's face and fell upon Dean's forehead. A pang hit Sam's soul, crushing it into a cesspool of pain and anger within him. He wiped the tear from Dean's face. An ache devoured him as he fixated on Dean's hollow unchanging eyes.

Sam fell to his knees; his brother still embraced in his arm. He allowed Dean's legs to rest upon the graveled roof. Sam did not remove his stare from Dean. "It's a vision, Bobby. I'm having a vision. I'm gonna wake up… and Dean.." Sam hand clutched in a fist and slammed into the gravel. He face grew more distorted.

"Sam.. I'm…" Sam barely noticed Bobby checking Dean's pulse. Bobby backed away shaking his head lightly. Sam didn't need Bobby to tell him what he already knew. A torrent of tears gushed down his cherub cheeks and his body shuddered with disbelief.

"No….No….Dean…Dean…" he voice cracking as he shook Dean's shoulders.. His breath came out in gasp of crying. "No" Sam wailed, pulling his brother close to him. Dean's head came to rest on Sam's shoulder. He wrapped both arms around Dean and Sam began to rock. He face was twisted with misery, melancholy, and throbbing agony. Sam looked to Bobby. Bobby's lips were sunken in and a tear had already rolled down Bobby's face.

Sam rocked Dean in his arms, half shaking and half crying. "Please, GOD PLEASE! Don't let this happen. Please don't let him he gone… Dean…please..no…nnnoo.."

The Despondent Sam remained immersed in anguish as he locked his brother to him and refused to accept Dean was gone. His doggedness was granite. Renouncing the idea to leave the roof, he sat cradling his brother. If he, somehow, lingered in that moment, he could change it, he could wake up, or he could make it right. Bobby crooked down behind Sam. He affectionately closed Dean's eyes, so Sam wouldn't have to see the annulled portals again. Sirens echoed in the distance, but Sam was stalwart.

"Sam, we have to go," Bobby managed to squeeze out.

Sam did not reply. The minutes passed and the sirens grew closer. The sounds of firefighters battling the blaze emitted from below. A minute turned to ten, and ten turned to fifteen.

"Sam, there was nothing we could do. We have to go now," Bobby voiced gently. Placing a hand on Sam's shoulder, he attempted to compel Sam to move. Sam recoiled from Bobby's attempt at comfort. There was no comfort for him. Only the need to bind Dean and to beget him to stay remained. Sam clinched Dean tighter.


	8. Sam's Final Hope

He knew Bobby was right, but it was so incredulous to know Dean was gone. The thought brought hushed tears to Sam's eyes once again. He squeezed Dean with his entire forte. "Dean…I…God…please make him alright.. I… can't…" Sam's voice was stolen by a sob. He closed his eyes, allowing the pain to shoot through his body. Suddenly, a gush of warmth fell upon his neck. Sam startled.

"Sam?"

Sam's expression was electric as second burst of warmth fell upon his neck.

"Bobby, He's alive. I just felt him breathe."

"Sam. I checked his pulse 20 minutes ago. I want him to be alright too, but…we just can't."

Sam had rolled Dean back to look upon his face. Shaking Dean lightly, he whispered "Dean, wake up. Come on." Dean didn't move. He lingered his hand near Dean's mouth. Warmth covered Sam's awaiting hand. "Bobby, he's… ha… he's okay."

"Sam!" Bobby said sternly and bent down grabbing Dean's wrist. "Feel this, he's got no pul……………Jesus, I got a heart beat…I don't understand…he.. he was...I "

"I don't care Bobby. He's alive."

"We're both going crazy… you and I both…know..it," Bobby watched a deep breath rise and fall in Dean's chest. "HOLY SHIT"

Sam continued shaking Dean lightly, but Dean showed no signs of waking.

-x-x-x-xx-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Bobby set foot into the motel door. He measured his steps, stealthily scrutinizing the room for signs of intruders.

"All clear, Sam."

Sam cradled Dean's cataleptic form to the motel's lumpy bed. Sam soothingly placed Dean on the bed. Bobby mused at the lengths Sam was attempting to coddle Dean. Sam removed his brother's jacket and boots, then stripped his own blanket from the other bed to enwrap Dean in it. Some part of Sam still clung to disbelief and worry and he stood watching Dean breathe for several minutes.

"He's still kickin' Sam… best I can figure is that his pulse was so weak, that we…"

"He is pretty stubborn," Sam forced out with a fake smile.

Bobby pulled back Dean's carefully placed blanket. He searched Dean's upper body and arms for clues to what might have attacked him. The story was the same as the other hunters who had been attacked.

"No defensive wounds, Sam. And it ain't like Dean to not put up a fight. What I can't figure is why it, whatever it is, attacked Dean. It was supposed to be after me. We need to take another look at what we've got. That website is the only clue we have to what's goin' on."

Sam stood over his brother as if he budged Dean would leave him again. Normally, Bobby would have pushed Sam to move forward with the hunt, as John taught Sam years before. Somehow, Bobby felt more inclined than usual to give Sam leeway. Since John's death, he felt responsible to look after the boys. He knew the boys placed themselves in front of harm all the time. Bobby tried all these reason to justify why he wasn't pushing Sam, but the truth was he was just as bothered as Sam. He knew Dean had stopped breathing, his heart had stopped beating, and the light in Dean's eyes had stopped shining. He needed the moment to regroup as much as Sam. Bringing himself back to the matter at hand, Bobby placed a hand on Sam's back.

"In any case, the thing has picked the wrong guys to piss off. You mess with one of us, you mess with us all. Let's look at the website. If we can figure anything out, we can get this thing….and we might help Dean."

The thought of seeing his brother wake and be his-- swaggered, devoted, robust, compassionate, and sometimes jackass-- self brought Sam to push his worry into determination. He wasn't sure why Dean started to breathe again, but he wasn't going to let his brother fight alone. If Dean wouldn't wake on his own, he would find a way. Dean never gives up on him, even when he commanded Dean to. Sam wasn't sure if Dean's tendency to sacrifice for him was what he loved most or hated most. He peered back at Dean for an epigrammatic second and a diminutive sheepish grin sneaked on Sam's face.

"Yeah, it couldn't hurt to look again." Sam pulled the blanket back around Dean's shoulders. He took a deep soothing breath to direct his mind and body to relax and focus on the things he could control at the moment. After that brief respiration, Sam grabbed his laptop and clicked back to the Supernatural site.


	9. Memoriam and Emotions

The home page loaded quickly, but the site no longer displayed what Sam and Bobby expected. The image of Bobby's face no longer paraded for the world, but it had been replaced with an image of Dean. The site flaunted a banner of "In Memoriam". The smugness of this thing dumfounded Sam. Sam couldn't prevent his breath from trapping in his throat. His gasp caused him to disconnect view from the website back to Dean as if he needed further verification the website was wrong.

Bobby read the obituary under Dean's picture. "Dean Winchester died tragically today in a fire. He was trained by his father- expert hunter, John Winchester. Dean's father recently preceded him in death. Sadly, Dean's mother lost her life due to a fire years earlier. The sole survivor of the Winchesters is the youngest brother, Samuel Winchester. In honor of Dean's contributions in keeping the world safe, a memorial will be held at 9113 Clay Street. All those wishing to pay respects are welcome to join."

Bobby waited for Sam to speak, but Sam was fermenting with anger. Whatever hurt Dean was playing a game. Sam gnashed his teeth and allowed himself to become incensed. In fact, Sam couldn't remember a time he felt more livid than this moment.

"Sam, something is wanting us to come visit them."

"If it wants to toy with us, it is going to be sorry," Sam jaw had clenched in rock hard determination. Bobby stood agape at the manifestation of anger on Sam's face.

"Sam, you got to keep a clear head! It wants you upset. It wouldn't have put that up, if it didn't want to rattle your chains."

Sam's nose flared and the emotions that he wrestled to keep in spattered out. "That thing tried to kill Dean! And I don't know how to help him!" Sam swung his fist upon the small end table.

He was about to prolong his rant, but a moan from Dean suspended his intention. Dean shifted and his arm flopped off the bed. Sam let out a pointed exhale. Seeing his brother move had returned Sam to his nurturing nature. He rubbed his eyes as he paced towards Dean.

He gently picked up Dean's arm to place it back under the blanket. Sam's grasp awoke a flicker in Dean. Dean sucked in the air harshly and opened his eyes. Dean's head felt like his head was imploding. He body racked with throbbing pain. He feebly grabbed his brother's hand. He gazed up and saw Sam's hopeful face staring at him.

"Dean," Sam said softly. The anger had sluiced away as soon as Dean lightly squeezed Sam's hand.

Dean tried to speak. Although his lips moved, no sound sprang from them.

"Easy kiddo! Something knocked you flat on your ass. Sam and I were getting worried." Bobby had joined Sam at Dean's bedside.

Dean poured his remaining strength in an attempt to form words, but only found a dry mouth full of air.

"Don't talk. It's okay. I'm just glad you're awake. You scared the shit out of me. Dean….I……..I…. I thought I had lost you." Sam's finger curled around Dean's hands.

Dean moved his fingers trivially in Sam's hands. It was a diminutive movement, but a colossal encouragement to Sam.

Dean's eyes were leaden. Every part of him screamed for rest, but he had to warn Sam that Meg was here and had help. He wasn't sure why he was alive. He wasn't sure how he survived, yet here he was. He had felt himself go. He recalled a moment of darkness, but then a feeling of warmth unlike anything he could ever imagine. The warmth was gone with pain and exhaustion as its replacement. His last thoughts were of Sam and his wish to protect Sam from Meg. It was all he hoped and begged for as his light faded in that burning building. Now, here was his chance.

Dean mouthed the words again. This time Sam drew close and turned his ear to listen to Dean's whisper. The words were soft, labored, and slow, but Sam understood them perfectly. He jolted upright as Dean continued to mouth the two words over and over. Dean's head wobbled as the exhaustion demanded his attention. Despite this urge, Dean remained constant in his warning- repeating two words. Sam laid his hand upon Dean's mumblings lips.

"I got it, Dean. It's all right…just rest. Okay."

Dean nodded his head lightly. His message delivered, a placidness washed over him. His eyelids lowered and with a huge sigh, he drifted into deep slumber.

"Sam, what it is?"

"It's Meg!"

"Damn it!...that...that girl's worst than a bad penny."

"Dean said two things: Meg and Amadán."

"What the hell is an Amadán?! I've never come across that term before."

"Whatever it is, it was important enough for Dean to want to tell me."


	10. Emotional Darkness

Sam raked his hands through his mop top locks in frustration as he weeded thorough approximately a hundred websites without a supernatural connection. It had been an hour of intensive online research- point, click, back, point, click, back, point, click, back. Drooping his head, he let out a thunderous groan.

"I'd say it's going well then. Are you sure Dean said Amadán? Maybe it's the name of a building or som…."

Sam shot Bobby an exasperated look. "Well, so FAR… Amadán is a colloquialism for Irish punk rock that attacks the senses and orchestrates chaos from fans."

"That sounds painful. I'd want to be comatose for that."

"Yeah.." Sam scratched at the stubble that started to shadow upon his baby face. This research was maddening. His fingers nimbly and briskly jumped upon the computer- point, click, back, point, click, back, point, click, back, point, click, back, point, and click. Finally, Sam smacked his hands together with the thrill of discovery.

"Alright….whew…" Sam sighed. "More along our side of things- Amadán: meaning non-minded. The Amadán is considered a death omen. An Irish faery that can cripple, disfigure, cause instant and complete paralysis, or kill humans with even a faint touch."

"Sounds like Meg has found a new playmate. Any information on how to kill one?"

"Ahhh… No…umh… according to legend, the only way to save a victim of an Amadán's touch is through…..uhhhhhm.. ah…through prayer." Sam's lip quivered and he looked soulfully to Dean.

"That's not going to do us a lot of good when we face Meg and that sucker. I have a friend that is an expert on Celtic legends. She might find some information for us." Sam tossed Bobby the cell phone and he quickly dialed the number.

Sam stood upright, cracked his back loudly, moved away from the computer screen, and flopped down upon the other bed. He turned to survey Dean's slumbering form. His brother looked ingenuous, for a change. Sam could see the child Dean had once been. An involuntary smile sprang upon his lips. Drifting back to the roof top, Sam's words echoed--- Hold on, Dean. Please, God, just let him hold on. Please, GOD PLEASE! Don't let this happen. Please don't let him be gone.--- Sam didn't meditate if it was his brother's fortitudeor something unknown that pulled Dean back. Half praying and half speaking to Dean, he mouthed the words thank you.

Across the room, Bobby was immersed in conversation. "Are you sure?...Always do. Thanks for your help." Bobby flipped closed the phone, turned, and focused squarely on Sam.

"Well?"

"Well, there is only one oral legend, which was passed down from a small Celtic tribe. The only way to kill an Amadán is to bathe it in the blood of a victim."

Sam's eyes grew wide with revulsion as he turned once again to face his brother.

"Sam, you're jumpier than a cat in a room of rockers. There ain't no way, I'm gonna hurt Dean!" Bobby's tone lowered to a supportive fatherly tone. "I need to get a few things. Why don't you get some shuteye and calm down."

"Bobby, I'm sorry. It's just that with Dean….I… I'm…."

"I know. You would think with the freaky shit we've seen… Geez…I didn't think anything could phase us. I'll be back. Salt this door and bar it. I don't want Meg and her girlfriend to surprise you before I'm back." Bobby bolted with one final nod to Sam.

Sam followed Bobby's instruction to the letter. He poured an ample layer of salt upon the door entrance and the window frames, even the small one in the bathroom. Using the small wardrobe to barricade the door, Sam's mind still buzzed with resentment.

Sam's images hovered on the fear of losing Dean. He had never felt so self destructive before. He terrified himself, much less Bobby. If Meg was before him, he would hew her apart with his bare hands. He couldn't decide which apprehension filled him with more trepidation: Dean's death or the darkness within his own soul. The only thing that kept him from faltering in the darkness on that rooftop was the soothing warmth of Dean's breath- the joy of Dean being alive. Now, his mind was filled with the unwarranted persecution of his family. His nostrils flared and the vein in his neck strained.


	11. Come Back

Dean's emerald eyes blinked slowly for a few moments and adjusted to the diffused motel lights. He felt worse than any weekend bender he had ever been on. His brother paced mere inches away from him. Observing Sam's bristled posture for a few moments, Dean had never witnessed this level of anxiety in Sam. Sam had never been this close to the edge. His brother settled on the adjacent bed, his leg twitching and tapping in an intentional effort to return to some moment of peace. Sam sprang back up from the bed as if was escaping hot coals. His mind was still racing with anger and fear of loss.

Dean mouthed the word "Sammy", but his brother was lost in innermost thought- the emotions that threatened to break thorough Sam's external façade of control. With a deep breath Sam attempted to calm himself and plopped back in the chair. At that moment, Dean's own armor was chinked by his brother's internal struggle to regain calm. Hisdesperation to reach Sammy-- to keep Sam away from the darkness, to keep the only thing he had in the world safe, gave him strength to mumble past his parched desert-dry mouth.

"Sammy"

"Dean..de..?" Sam's mouth fluctuated between a smile and a quiver. His doe eyes glistened with the threat of bursting. Taking a deep breath, Sam's teeth chattered before he could speak again. "Are you okay?" blurted out not as a question but a plea.

"Yeah...I think..." spilled out in a scratchily groan. Dean struggled to clear his throat.

Before Dean could ask for water, Sam was already sprinting to a small refrigerator. The corner of Dean's mouth smirked and a quiet laugh came out as a sigh. Sam's hasty return permitted for no other reaction.

Sam carefully helped Dean take sips from the bottle. Dean didn't know who was in shoddier shape: Him or Sammy. He knew Sam needed him and he could keep his brother away from brink. Trying to ease Sam's mind, Dean did what Dean Winchesterdoes best- avoid the subject.

"Hey Sam" came out more easily now. "How much tequila did I drink."?

"Very funny…..You've been asleep for 10 hours."

"Damn and I was...trying for my own personal record of 15.

"Dean...you were..." A sob sprang forth. "You were dead... I looked inyour eyes."

"Sam. Stop it. I'm okay. I'm a resilient guy"

"Yeah that's why you were out for 10 hours DEAN!" Sam screamed infrustration.

"Nah.. I just didn't want to wake up from an awesome dream. This groupof chicks locked me in a basement….Whew…ha.. DUDE, it was so awesome!" Deanpoured on the trademark Winchester bravado with his tongue in cheek humor.

The amazing part was it made Sam pull more to his true nature. He shook his head and rolled his eyes disapprovingly. Yet the idea Dean was well enough to be an ass brought him more peace that any other words that could be said. He loved Dean and he knew Dean loved him. They didn't have to say it. Dean knew Sam would always fight to save him, just as Sam knew Dean would always fight to save him.

Sam turned and smiled infectiously "Man you're a perv!"

Dean scooted himself up, resting his back against the padded headboard. Sam reached out to assist, but Dean quickly swatted away his hand.

"Dude, I'm fine. Just go do…Something."

Luckily, Bobby knocked at the barricade door before Sam could fuss over Dean any further. Marching to the door, Sam removed the obstruction and opened the motel door. Bobby's arms were full of brown paper bags and two huge duffels. Snatching several of bags, Sam rested them on the desk by his computer. Bobby started to speak to Sam, but sentiment stole him when he spied Dean sitting upright.

"Hey! Kiddo, how you doing!" Bobby said more exuberantly than normal. Dean nodded his head in acknowledgment. Turning his attention to Sam; Bobby noticed Sam's composure had been restored. He was thankful, the deck was now stacked in their favor. With relief, Bobby poured out the contents of the brown bags.

An assortment of hand guns, an industrial bug sprayer, and the ultimate prize- a jug of blood- scattered on the table. "I told you we weren't going to hurt Dean. You need to have some faith, Son. We had other victims."

Sam could have kicked himself for not thinking of it.

"So what are we doing?" Dean chimed in from across the room.

"You... I don't think you are up for anything." Sam said commandingly.

"Sure, I am" Dean struggled to scoot to the end of the bed, forced himself to stand, cocked his head in triumph, gave a devilish grin, and fell face first to the floor.

"He's ready" Sam and Bobby said in unison.

"Guys...a little help here.. Guys?...uh.. come on…. I'm sucking up carpet dust bunnies here!"


	12. Come Nicely or Die!

Roaring the Impala's engine, Sam and Bobby pulled into the broken cobbled driveway of 9113 Clay Street. The Impala rocked to and fro from the uneven stones. The rundown Victorian home's once bright green paint had changed to sickly pale pea soup green. The home moaned, rasped, and lamented from abandonment. Poison Ivy had overtaken more than half of the outer surface and the front door was now a yawning hole. Remnants of a once beautiful garden had been smothered by weeds years ago.

Stepping from the car, Bobby and Sam quickly strapped on an arsenal. The modified bug sprayer filled with the victim's blood was tightly strapped to Bobby's back. The handgun is his hand was ready for action with a back-up gun tucked in his right boot. Sam was equally fortified. A magnum hid in his waistband and a shotgun was embraced in his arms.

"Sam, no matter what Meg says you stick to the plan. Don't you believe anything she spews at you. You play the game we've created" Bobby nudged Sam's side.

"Don't worry, I'm ready for this." Sam cocked the shotgun and started up the creaking steps to the front porch. Bobby followed Sam's lead closely.

Once they were upon the porch, a spattering of light could be seen coming from a room in the back of the house. Threading through the doorway, Bobby and Sam flushed their bodies tight against the side of the doorframe. Carefully sliding into the hall, their arms were taunt with anticipation of firing in seconds. They journeyed to the eerie candlelight ruddiness that danced into the ruined hallway.

"Oh, Sam…I know you are there. Why must we always play these games? I made this little service for you." A voice mockingly echoed from within the room.

Bobby exchanged a nod with Sam and both veered into the room with weapons drawn.

Two women stood in front of a broken stone fireplace. The raven haired woman spoke again. "I just wanted to be here for you in your time of need. Tell me:... Did you enjoy seeing Dean charred remains! I found it has a nice poetic karma ring to it. A nice tit for tat for the pain you both have caused me.

"MEG", Sam pretending to have just made this discovery.

"Oh, Sam", Med spewed with a venomous callousness, "I'm so glad the Winchester boys remember me so well. I often think about our times together too. You don't call or write. A girl starts to wonder how you feel about her. But still, I wanted you to know how much I enjoy the thought of Dean's body lingering in putridity and liquescence."

"I'm gonna make you pay for that. I'm gonna kill every EVIL thing upon this earth for my brother!" Sam allowed hatred to color his intonation.

"Geez… You and Dean like to make idle threats don't you. I know what's in your head Sam. I've been there. I know where the dark places lurk. You feel the dark's fingers crushing the good in your soul. I did you a favor. You would have struggled, lingered between who you are and who you think you are. Eventually, you true self would come and Dean would be just as dead."

Sam locked his arm in place ready to pull the trigger. "You're wrong. The only darkness I feel is for you. I'm tired of your games, your plans, and your trail of death. All you and your kind have done is hurt my family. Now it's time for you to feel that pain." Sam's voice fumed and his posture was erect.

"This just gets old. Kill me- Kill my puppet—I find a new puppet- We do this all over again."

"Not this time. You're going so far to hell that you ain't ever crawling back outta there," Bobby voiced as he moved closer to Sam.

"Oh, Sam you brought a new daddy to protect you- tch..tch..tch."

"Sam, don't let this bitch play with you. We came to kick it back to hell. Keep your head. This is a job."

"No, this is revenge and I'll kill you all." Sam attempted to pull the trigger, but Meg used the force of her mind to send Bobby's and Sam'sweapons crashing across the room. A fraction later, she flung Sam and Bobby against the back wall with a flick of her wrist.

Sam shook his head, regained his footing, and lunged towards Meg, knocking her to the floor. He placed his back-up gun to her temple. He allowed his breathing to seethe in hatred.

"Go on, Sam. You're one of us. Kill me and proved you what you are."

"I won't ever be like you."

"You've already lost the last and only advantage you had. Dean's gone! There is nothing left to keep you away from the dark burning through your soul." Sam's nostrils flared and Meg laughed defiantly.

Using her demon powers, she flung Sam across the room. Bobby had just regained his footing.

"Sam!" Bobby screamed.

Jerking her head towards Bobby, Meg threw him back for a second time. She motioned towards the Amadán and the willowy creature fluidly made her way towards Bobby. Her outstretched arm was ready to take another life.

Strutting glibly, Meg approached Sam's fallen form. Straddling Sam's body, Meg used her unseen ability to constrict the air from Sam's throat. Sam gasped under the pressure.

Meg's confidence grew. "Now that wasn't very nice, Sam. I go to all the trouble of making this welcome for you and you show no appreciation. Squeezing tighter, Meg glanced back to see her minion progressing the final yards to drain the life from Bobby. She laughed in triumph and delight.

"You have two choices Sam: Come nicely or die badly!"


	13. Touching Sam!

"Wrong. You're the one with no choices," a voice cockily testified from behind her. A loud bang reverberated in the air. Meg's eyes flashed and the force which held Sam dissipated.

Meg turned abruptly. Her face skewed into a fiery ball of tragedy and frenzy as she viewed a gun smoking in Dean's hand pointed at her. A bullet wound still stung in Meg's upper shoulder blade. Discovering Dean's smirking face incited Meg to scream with vehemence.

"Oh… Shut up!" Dean shouted as he used pistol to the smacked Meg's face. Meg fell flatly on top of Sam.

"I hate that bitch!, Dean spewed as he noticed Sam struggling to push Meg off. "Ha… okay…You having a good time there, Sammy. Whew…ahem."

Pushing Meg off of him, Sam sprang upright. Sam glanced at Dean only briefly before they were crossing the room to defend Bobby.

The Amadán was a fraction of a foot from Bobby. Bobby shook himself attempting to get off the floor. Dean fired a horde of bullets into the creature, which caused the lithe woman to merely flinch. She continued to advance upon Bobby. Jumping to his feet, he pulled the spray nozzle from under his coat and doused the creature in the blood of the fallen hunter. Bobby prayed the oral legend was true. The creature looked strangely at Bobby and kept moving.

"Bobby move, don't let her touch you," Dean yelled. He grabbed Sam's shotgun and blasted the creature again. The rounds only allowed a momentary reprieve of he creature's advance.

Reversing the barrel of the gun, Dean used the butt of the gun to smack the creature over. Bobby scrambled from her grasp.

The Amadán recovered quickly. Dean attempted to smack her again, but she grabbed the barrel. The creature was stronger than she appeared and used the rifle to fling him harshly to the floor. Ignoring the fallen Dean, she proceeded again towards Bobby.

Dean winched and wiped blood from his lower lip. A huge gash had been made when he hit the floor. He raked his lip with his hand once more and rolled upright.

Sam had retrieved his back-up gun and was defending Bobby. He fired as the creature as she ensnared Sam and Bobby into the corner. The creatures realized it would have to take out Sam to get her intended target. The Amadán's arm seemed to move in slow motion in Dean's mind. Sprinting towards the Amadán, Dean's mind filled with foreboding as he remembered the sensation and cold of the Amadan's touch. The Amadan's fingers were ready to brush Sam, when Dean grabbed her hand away.

"Dean… NO!"


	14. Victims and Tinkerbelle

The creature stared at Dean for a moment and then pulled her arm away from Dean's grasp. She backed away a few feet and twitched.

Sam and Bobby rushed to Dean. Sam grabbed Dean's shoulders and turned him to look at his eyes. Dean's eyes sparkled with life.

"Dean.. I don't understand…what…"

Dean wiped the blood from his lower lip one more. Bobby patted Sam's shoulder. "Sam. Look at Dean's hand- The blood of a victim."

Dean's hand was smeared with the blood he had wiped away. "Guess they didn't say the victim had to be a survivor, huh? You guys are so lucky I'm here. See even the freaky chic can't resist my mojo."

Bobby and Sam would have contested Dean's comment, but the creature was more of concern for the moment. Plus, they both were so glad to have Dean acting normal- at least Dean's normal- that they allowed him some leeway.

The creature continued to back away and began screeching at a decibel close to microphone feedback. Dean, Bobby, and Sam winched at the shrill sound omitting from the panicked Amadán. The creature twitched in maddening convulsions as her skin drizzled from her skeletal structure. The liquid began to form a lake of goo- a mixture of slime and black sludge- upon the floor.

"Dude, that's so sick." Watching the creature dissolved for several more minutes, Dean's nose wrinkled in disgust.

Finally, the Amadán form slumped into a melting ball in the floor until nothing was left but a large bubbling and splattering cesspool.

"Eww..ugh.." Dean muttered. Dean rested his hand upon Sam shoulder. "Well, there goes a potential girlfriend for you Sammy."

Sam punched Dean's abdomen. "Jerk."

"Can you two stop bickerin'," Bobby's commanded. "We still got another problem to deal with."

"Oh yeah." Dean said with satisfaction. His arm punching Sam's abdomen in return. "Bitch"

"Boy, stop with that shit eatin grin and get to work!" Bobby kicked Dean in the rear lightly. He still wasn't sure Dean was 100.

Sam, Dean, and Bobby turned their attention to where the passed out Meg should be only to find the room empty.

"Son of a bitch, they voiced simultaneously as they realized Meg has slithered away during the confusion.

"Great… that she-demon megabitch is a chicken. I HATE that BITCH," Dean grumbled.

-x-xx—x-xx—x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-xx-

Dean slumped into the driver's seat of his Impala. This hunt was a long line of not close calls, but almost final ones. Of all the times he had faced death and of all the times he was supposed to die, why was he saved each time? He was lost in thought, when Bobby slammed the trunk lid shut.

Sam slipped into the passenger seat as Bobby flopped into the back.

"Are you sure you're okay to drive?"

"I'm fine, Sam. I just saved you're ass in there."

"And we were lucky. Demons tend be arrogant and she wasn't expectin' to see your rear either. I wouldn't get to cocky. Sam's right, Dean. You've been thorough a lot of crap the last coupl'a days."

"I'm fine," Dean said sternly as he turned the ignition. The impala roared to life, bringing a smile to Dean's face. Gripping the steering wheel, he felt more energy surge into him. A shutter of exuberance traveled up his spine.

"Okay, Dean have it your way." Sam said in disbelief at the joy upon Dean's face.

"That's right. What would you do without me Sammy? You so owe me. It looked like you and Meg were about to plan a honeymoon. If you had better taste in woman, we wouldn't of….. "

"Dude, if you hadn't let Tinkerbelle kick your ass in the first place…" Sam rebuffed.

Dean threw up his hand. "Whatever, you need to tell yourself." Smiling broadly, Dean pressed the gas and bolted away from a hunt that would haunt him during many nightmares.

xxxxx-------THE END------xxxxx

Author's note: This was my 2nd attempt at fanfic. To all you have read, your support has been overwhelming. I humbly thanks all of you! Now, I must be off to get cracking on the 3rd one. Much love to all SN fans and fanfic writers. I can't wait to read all of yours.


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